The Vanishing Man eBook

What was there about this strange girl that had made
so deep an impression on me? That was the question
that I propounded to myself, and not for the first
time. Of the fact itself there was no doubt.
But what was the explanation? Was it her unusual
surroundings? Her occupation and rather recondite
learning? Her striking personality and exceptional
good looks? Or her connection with the dramatic
mystery of her lost uncle?

I concluded that it was all of these. Everything
connected with her was unusual and arresting; but
over and above these circumstances there was a certain
sympathy and personal affinity of which I was strongly
conscious and of which I dimly hoped that she, perhaps,
was a little conscious, too. At any rate, I was
deeply interested in her; of that there was no doubt
whatever. Short as our acquaintance had been,
she held a place in my thoughts that had never been
held by any other woman.

From Ruth Bellingham my reflections passed by a natural
transition to the curious story that her father had
told me. It was a queer affair, that ill-drawn
will, with the baffled lawyer protesting in the background.
It almost seemed as if there must be something behind
it all, especially when I remembered Mr. Hurst’s
very singular proposal. But it was out of my
depth; it was a case for a lawyer, and to a lawyer
it should go. This very night, I resolved, I would
go to Thorndyke and give him the whole story as it
had been told to me.

And then there happened one of those coincidences
at which we all wonder when they occur, but which
are so frequent as to have become enshrined in a proverb.
For, even as I formed the resolution, I observed two
men approaching from the direction of Blackfriars,
and recognised in them my quondam teacher and his
junior.

“I was just thinking about you,” I said
as they came up.

“Very flattering,” replied Jervis; “but
I thought you had to talk of the devil.”

“Perhaps,” suggested Thorndyke, “he
was talking to himself. But why were you thinking
of us, and what was the nature of your thoughts?”

“My thoughts had reference to the Bellingham
case. I spent the whole of last evening at Nevill’s
Court.”

“Ha! And are there any fresh developments?”

“Yes, by Jove! there are. Bellingham gave
me a full and detailed description of the will; and
a pretty document it seems to be.”

“Did he give you permission to repeat the details
to me?”

“Yes. I asked specifically if I might and
he had no objection whatever.”

“Good. We are lunching at Soho to-day as
Polton has his hands full. Come with us and share
our table and tell us your story as we go. Will
that suit you?”

It suited me admirably in the present state of the
practice, and I accepted the invitation with undissembled
glee.

“Very well,” said Thorndyke; “then
let us walk slowly and finish with matters confidential
before we plunge into the madding crowd.”